Starting over

Losing my massive silver maple tree in June was stressful to my gardener's heart.  I think I actually went through a grieving process.  My sadness was profound enough that for the first few weeks, I could not even bring myself to stroll through that part of the garden.

New beginnings

Finally, as summer drew to a close, I knew it was time to begin anew in those beds around the tree stump.  Much to my surprise, there were many plants that had recovered well from the shock of the tree removal and were actually thriving in their new sun-filled environment.  Seeing those happy, healthy plants gave me the impetus I needed to begin again.

Loss

Of course, the first order of business had to be the removal of weeds and small trees that had joined the garden in an opportunistic frenzy.  I added some swamp sun flowers that a friend had shared with me, they are going to be VERY happy in that sunny spot.  Two other friends shared rooted shrubbery from their gardens which are now nestled at the base of the old tree stump.

Original shade garden

It still isn't beautiful, but I can envision a future in that space now.  It feels good to start over.

Worth the wait

I saw and tasted my first persimmon when our Master Gardener class took a tour of Auburn's experimental station in Jemison 10 years ago.  The fruit tasted like nothing I had ever experienced before. 

When I went hunting for them in the grocery store, I discovered them in a small basket in the exotic produce section, for $1.00 each.  This was not going to work for my frugal soul so the next logical step was to grow my own.  Persimmon trees were not available at the local big box store.  The first nursery I searched had a potted tree for (drum roll sound) $80.  I was seriously disappointed but not defeated.

At the time, Cedar Creek Nursery was just a new start-up but the folks there were (and still are) willing to help.  They had a source for persimmon trees for $25 but there were none available at the time.  I waited for six months but finally the call came, there was a shipment of persimmon trees for me to choose from!  I chose the perfect little tree, brought it home and lovingly planted it using all the good techniques for tree-planting that I learned in my Master Gardener classes.

I was told that it would take just three years for my Fuyu persimmon to begin bearing fruit.  When three years passed, I began looking for persimmons--no joy that year, or for the four years after that.  I began to wonder if I had purchased the one dud in the crop. 

This spring, after the worse drought in my lifetime, the persimmon tree decided it was time.  All summer, I watched and waited while the persimmons grew.  When the first two ripened in late September I was crushed to discover that the birds had been waiting too.  How did they know how wonderful persimmons taste?

I learned that persimmons can be picked a little early and allowed to ripen indoors.  This works but it takes days longer to ripen than if they were on the tree (but I don't have to share with those pesky birds).

I wish I could tell you exactly what a persimmon tastes like.  It has the texture of an apple, and the color of a ripe peach but the flavor is uniquely its own.  Now that I will have a tree full of persimmons each year, I will have to discover creative ways to incorporate them into my diet. 

For now, they are just amazingly delicious!  They are worth the wait.

My heart's-a-bustin'

Tucked in the back of my native shade garden grows a thinly leaved, leggy-looking shrub that merely disappears into the background for most of the year.
However, when late September rolls around, this nondescript little shrub literally bursts into show-stopping glory.

Its Latin name is Euonymus americanus but it goes by a plethora of common names:  strawberry bush, bursting-heart, hearts-bustin-with-love, or my favorite, heart's-a-bustin. 

These berries are irresistible to deer so you won't find this display in the woods from which my plants originally came.  It takes a protected suburban garden to show off its magnificence.

My heart's just a bustin' with joy!

When my neighbors come calling

This spring my neighbor cleverly terraced the ditch the borders both our backyards and used it to plant a vegetable garden for her family.  This was even more impressive to me because this young Salvadoran woman is the mother of six adorable children.  I wondered how well her ambitious attempt at using every available tillable space would pan out. 

Her terraced, ditch garden was so successful that not only is she feeding her own family, she is feeding mine too.  These squash-like vines have filled the ditch and came calling in my backyard.  The photos do not demonstrate the size of the vines and their leaves, which have come running 15 feet through the chain link fence, through my garden and out across the lawn.

With the help of Yolanda's daughters, we enjoy discussing the successes and failures of our respective gardening ideas.  This squash is called a pipian (plural is pipianes).   Although they look similar to our traditional yellow squash, they have the firmness and a similar flavor to zucchini. 

I no longer attempt to grow yellow squash or zucchini in my gardens because my gardens are invested with squash vine borers.  I don't know whether  the borers avoid the ditch or pipian vines are resistant but I'm delighted to host these delicious neighbors in my backyard.

Peppers, picked and pickled

It's impossible to pick a peck of pickled peppers; however, you may pickle a peck of peppers picked from the prolific pepper plants growing in my pepper patch.

This summer has been perfect for growing peppers of all kinds.  I grow sweet banana peppers from seed that I have saved from year to year.  This year's patch of twelve plants have outdone themselves. 

We have peppers on salads, in soup, roasted, and added to just about every dish I make.  I have cut and frozen a whopping eight quarts of them.  I've sent them to Minnesota for my mom and siblings.  I have carried so many of them to school that the staff are beginning to hide when they see me coming. 

Then I discovered that my new son-in-law loves to make pickled peppers.  He is taking every picked pepper and producing jar after jar of beautiful and tasty pickles.

As the weather begins to cool down, the pepper patch will slowly fade away and the first frost will finish them off but we are still picking peppers to pickle from the pepper patch.

In case you are wondering (as I did), a peck of peppers is the equivalent to eight quarts--I have a peck of peppers in my freezer!

Running wild

Do you see the chair?

Every summer, an enthusiastic purple hyacinth bean vine reseeds near our back deck.  The deck becomes a trellis for this vine which is much loved by hummingbirds and butterflies.  Since we enjoy watching the wildlife along with the flowers and bean pods, I let this vine have (almost) complete reign of the deck by the end of the summer.  Usually it follows the deck railings, but this year, it grew straight over the railing, burying the bench and completely draping the patio chair.  We will take possession of our deck again as soon as we have our first frost. . . but I'm not in any hurry.

Container of the Year--2017

You would think that a gentle summer with a abundant rainfall would be the perfect recipe for outstanding containers, but it hasn't been a great year for containers in my backyard.

This year, I decided to use annual dahlia's as the filler plant and pop of color in most of my containers.  This turned out to be a serious error in planning.  While the dahlia blooms are bright and beautiful, the plants just weren't happy in the confined spaces of mixed containers and didn't bloom frequently enough to make a consistently attractive single plant.

The best container planting of 2017 turned out to be literally because it was the best container.  I purchased an old chair for $1 at the thrift store, knocked out the faded padded seat, and set a container in the opening after painting it with deck stain.  The dahlia I planted in it promptly died (this happens) so I just stuck a sprig of reed and a leftover diamond frost cutting in the soil and let it go. The resulting contrast between the dark chair and the bright white flowers worked.

Sometimes the best ideas are the ones that just happen!